


Such a Noble Villain

by Run_of_the_mill



Series: Be a Good Boy, Harry [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, This is some creepy shit, also i wanted to write Voldemort as a non-noble villain, and i wanted to share my suffering, but it did, but it doesn't go to rape, i don't know why my brain thought this was okay, it's just very disgusting and scary, the title is sarcastic af, this is very non-cony, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/pseuds/Run_of_the_mill
Summary: Harry and Voldemort are in a classroom and Harry is stuck to a chair. Some very weird, creepy stuff happens next because Voldemort is who he is.“This isn’t over,” said Voldemort. Oh gods, no. “One day soon, dear Harry, you will open your eyes, and I will be there, between your legs. I will have you, my darling boy. You’ve only delayed the inevitable.” Harry’s hands tightened into fists as a white-hot fury overtook him.“I’ll kill you first,” he vowed.“Good luck,” whispered Voldemort, smile still pasted on that horrible mouth of his. Harry turned and walked out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him, for good measure.Translation:In 中文 by Elenastor
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Be a Good Boy, Harry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578418
Comments: 45
Kudos: 383





	Such a Noble Villain

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【翻译】Such a Noble Villain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212349) by [Elenastor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenastor/pseuds/Elenastor)

> Oh yes. I did this. I have no idea why. But I did.

“Do you fear me?”

They were in an abandoned classroom and Harry had no idea how _He_ had made it there, past the wards. But the Dark Lord was in Hogwarts. He smiled at Harry, benign and gentle, as if this wasn’t the strangest thing ever, as if they weren’t mortal enemies, sworn to be each other’s doom. He had regained a nose since they’d last met. And hair. And the rest of his irritatingly handsome face.

It was all wrong.

That wasn’t what monsters were supposed to look like. Monsters were what Harry had seen last year. Some sort of human-snake hybrid. Not some rich-looking PTA dad.

“I don’t fear you,” answered Harry, voice ripe with the sort of conviction that was based exactly in fear. He was stuck behind a desk, on a chair that he could not leave, no matter how hard he tried to stand. “I fear dementors. I fear rabid dogs. I fear giant spiders. I fear dragons. I don’t fear you. I _hate_ you.”

“How brave,” said Voldemort. He sauntered to Harry, pulling dark leather gloves off his pale, spidery fingers. “Better be… GRYFFINDOR!” He chuckled to himself, as if he’d told some hilarious joke. Harry was thoroughly unamused. He clenched his jaw so hard that it hurt, preventing himself from spewing all the vitriol that was threatening to overflow from behind his ribs. There was a lot of it, swallowed back year after year after year of being linked to this madman. Voldemort could see it in his eyes, probably. His smile grew wider and he knelt in front of Harry’s desk. He put his chin onto his crossed arms and stared at Harry, intently.

“What do you want?” asked Harry, bewildered by the Dark Lord’s behaviour. “Why am I not dead yet?”

“I’m not here to kill you,” said Voldemort, matter-of-factly. Harry frowned in confusion. Then, he decided that he did not care.

“Then,” he said, “may I be excused? I still have a curfew to respect.”

“The curfew did not seem to matter,” Voldemort pointed out, “when you decided to sneak out of your little tower for a midnight stroll.”

“Well, it matters _now!_” snapped Harry. “There’s a dangerous psychopath on school grounds.”

“It does seem so, doesn’t it?” said Voldemort. He did not seem offended. In fact, he looked quite pleased by the descriptor. “It’s not good for little boys to be out on their own in such dangerous times.” Harry resented that, resented being called a little boy because that was exactly what he was. A little boy in a grown-up war. He did not want to be reminded of that by the very man who had dragged him into this mess.

“If you know,” hissed Harry, “then let me go.” He tried to stand, once more, but found that he was still stuck the stupid chair.

“I want something, Harry,” said Voldemort. Of course he did. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well?” prompted Harry. “Out with it.”

“Give me a kiss.” That brought Harry up short. He stared at Voldemort, feeling like little more than a deer stuck in headlights.

“What?” said Harry. “Me? _Why?_”

“You, yes,” confirmed Voldemort. “Just because. I woke up, this evening, and I had this strange, _intense_ need to do something, _anything_, terrible. And I sat in my study, thinking and thinking and thinking: What sort of horror have I yet to commit? I have killed, tortured, kidnapped, poisoned. All the bad things under the sun, I have done. What is it that I have yet to do? And it occurred to me… I haven’t hurt a child, yet.”

“What- what do you mean?” asked Harry. This was utterly ridiculous. Harry knew for a fact that Voldemort had killed men, women and children with impunity at the height of his power. He’d never discriminated when it came to harming people who were not _himself_ and Harry said as much.

“Oh, Harry,” chuckled Voldemort. “How sweet of you. How naïve. Do you really not understand what I am speaking of? Or do you simply not want to think about it?” And so, Voldemort’s meaning dawned on Harry. It was horrifying and unspeakable and Harry redoubled his effort to get out of his chair. _Little boy_, Voldemort had called him.

_Little boy_.

“You- You can’t do that,” said Harry. “You’re not that kind of monster.”

“How do you know?” asked Voldemort, standing up. He walked around the desk to stand at Harry’s shoulder. “How do you know what kind of monster I am?”

“You’re not a _paedophile_,” said Harry. He was trying to convince himself; he knew. He had no idea what kind of monster Voldemort was. So what, if he’d never heard of the man raping anyone? That did not mean Voldemort had never done it. It was then and there that Harry realised that he’d built Voldemort up as some sort of _noble_ villain in his mind. Someone who was evil, yes. But not the sort of evil Harry could not even bear to think about.

“I am not a paedophile,” agreed Voldemort. But, before Harry could sigh in relief, he added: “but most child rapists are not paedophiles.”

“How is that even-”

“Rape isn’t about lust, Harry,” he explained, as if he were a teacher trying to make a particularly stupid student understand some rather complex matter. “It’s about _power_. My power to make you submit. My power to take from you what you are unwilling to give. I am stronger; therefore, I will take. You are weaker; therefore, you will give.”

“I _won’t_,” snapped Harry. “I’d rather die.”

“Ah,” said Voldemort, sitting on the desk. “That is _precisely_ what makes me want to do it more.”

“You bastard,” whispered Harry.

“My parents were married,” said Voldemort. He reached for Harry’s face, but the latter attempted to dodge. Unfortunately, there was only so far Harry could go in his chair and, eventually, Voldemort’s fingers were on his face. They came back damp with Harry’s tears. “Your tears are very enticing.”

“Please don’t,” plead Harry.

“Alright,” said Voldemort, smiling at Harry. “But I do want that kiss. A reward, I believe. For restraining myself.” Gods. How disgusting. Harry could feel himself crying even harder. But he nodded. A kiss was nothing in the face of what he was being threatened with. “Good boy.” Voldemort grabbed his shoulder and pulled him out of the chair. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and waited.

“You’re too tall,” said Harry, craning his neck up. “Sit down.”

“Bossy,” said Voldemort, smirking. But he sat down, pulling Harry till he stood between the older man’s spread legs. Harry slowly raised trembling hands to the monster’s cheeks and took a deep breath. He dove in for a quick peck and attempted to pull away.

“That won’t do,” said Voldemort. One of his hands was in Harry’s hair and it was holding him close to Voldemort’s face.

“Let go,” said Harry, pushing at Voldemort’s shoulders. “You said one kiss.”

“I did not mean a virgin’s kiss,” said Voldemort, rolling his eyes. “Come here.” And suddenly, Harry was being kissed, open-mouthed. No. Kiss was the wrong word. He was being snogged. By a grown man.

By his parents’ murderer.

It was horrifying and it made Harry _weep_. The moments passed and Voldemort wasn’t letting go. In fact, he was pressing their bodies closer. With a heave, he stood up and lifted Harry off the ground. Instinctively, Harry raised his legs and caught himself around Voldemort’s waist. Finally, just as Harry was beginning to think he was about to be kissed to death, Voldemort released his mouth, allowing Harry to suck in a deep, life-saving breath.

“_That,_” said Voldemort, “was a proper kiss.” Harry coughed and glared at him.

“If you have what you want,” panted Harry, “put me down and let me go.”

“One more thing, darling,” grinned Voldemort.

“You said just a kiss,” protested Harry. He struggled, trying to get Voldemort to lose his hold on Harry’s arse. But it was to no avail. The man’s hold was sure.

“I lied,” said Voldemort. “How surprising.” The cold dread was back. Merlin, please no.

“Please,” begged Harry. “Please, please, please, please. Don’t do it.” He squirmed and struggled in Voldemort’s arms, trying to dislodge himself from the man’s embrace

“I won’t rape you,” said Voldemort, clicking his tongue. “Stop making a nuisance out of yourself.”

“Then what do _want?_” asked Harry. He was getting more frazzled by the second and he _needed_ to get away from this devil.

“Touch me,” said Voldemort.

“What?”

“Between my legs,” explained Voldemort. “I want you to touch me and feel, for yourself, what you do to me.”

“Nooooo,” whined Harry. “_Please. _I don’t want to. I just wanna go to bed. Lemme go. Lemme go!”

“Be a good boy,” hushed Voldemort. He placed a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. It made him feel dirty. “Do as you’re told, and you may go. Refuse and… I think you know what happens if you don’t obey.” Caught between a rock and a hard place. Harry’s crying turned into all out sobs as he tried to figure out what the best course of action was. Or, more accurately, the least worse course.

“Okay,” said Harry, at last. “Lemme down. I can’t do it from here.” So, Voldemort put him down. He used the edge of his sleeve to gently wipe the tears and snot off Harry’s face.

“Good boy,” said Voldemort, kissing the top of Harry’s head. Harry nodded absently, trying to make himself do as he was told.

“Can you- Can you make me?” asked Harry.

“Of course, darling,” said Voldemort. “You ask so sweetly.” He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled it forward. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”

It didn’t feel good.

Harry only touched Voldemort through his trousers, and he was already bawling again. It was horrid. Voldemort was _hard_. Harry could feel it and it was _so bad_. How long did he have to do this? How long until it was okay to let go?

“Do you fear me, Harry?” asked Voldemort, smiling wide and triumphant.

“Yes,” Harry managed to choke out around his tears.

“Good,” said Voldemort. He released Harry’s hand. Immediately, Harry turned around and ran away. But he was stopped at the door.

“What now?!” screamed Harry. He was frustrated, and scared, and he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Don’t be rude,” chided Voldemort.

“Sorry,” said Harry, through clenched teeth. He knew where this could end up if he ticked off the Dark Lord. He could not afford to.

“Better,” said Voldemort, nodding to himself. “I only wanted you to understand something.”

“What?” asked Harry.

“This isn’t over,” said Voldemort. _Oh gods, no. _“One day soon, dear Harry, you will open your eyes, and I will be there, between your legs. I _will_ have you, my darling boy. You’ve only delayed the inevitable.” Harry’s hands tightened into fists as a white-hot fury overtook him.

“I’ll kill you first,” he vowed.

“Good luck,” whispered Voldemort, smile still pasted on that horrible mouth of his. Harry turned and walked out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him, for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to be crucified for this. T-T What is _this?_ I need a shower or something. T-T


End file.
